


head's filling up with the wicked games (up in flames)

by wherehopelies



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-18 09:46:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17578541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wherehopelies/pseuds/wherehopelies
Summary: "Aubrey wished her father would let her have anyone she was romantically involved with upstairs, that she might be able to get anything less than an A without receiving an earful of criticism, that she had the confidence to change with the window wide open and not care who saw. As it was, Aubrey didn’t have that freedom, and her dislike of Beca Mitchell spawned from the very simple fact that Beca did."hsau/childhood neighbors au





	head's filling up with the wicked games (up in flames)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sylviewashere](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sylviewashere/gifts).



> here's my first mitchsen fic??? i dont even really go here tbh. but happy birthday sylvie, if i ship mitchsen it's only bc of you. based on tennis court by lorde.

Aubrey had lived next to Beca Mitchell for the entire seventeen years of her existence. It wasn’t that strange, really. Pretty much everyone in this town had always been in this town, in the same house, on the same street.

What was strange, though, was that Aubrey didn’t really know Beca Mitchell. She lived next to her, saw her sometimes in passing in the halls at school, had even had a few classes together. But they didn’t talk, never particularly acknowledged each other’s existence.

Aubrey knew her as the flannel-wearing, music-blaring, class-clown girl next door. They’d lived next to each other for as long as they both had lived, but Aubrey had never really talked to her or gotten to know her at all beyond that perception.

And that was just fine with Aubrey.

The Mitchells were okay as a family. Dr. Mitchell was a well-dressed, friendly man whose only apparent flaw was that he sometimes let his bushes grow into their yard in the fall. And Sheila, Dr. Mitchell’s second wife, hadn’t ever really done anything to bother the Posens since she had moved in four years ago.

And Aubrey had no logical reason to dislike Beca Mitchell at all, seeing as she had never really spoken to her other than a few exchanges when they were younger that had quickly shown them both that they weren’t meant to be friends.

So while Aubrey had no logical reason to dislike Beca in any way, she did. It might’ve been because their rooms faced each other and Beca often kept her curtains open at inappropriate times. Besides having seen Beca changing on _countless_ occasions, Aubrey had also been privy to Beca’s horrible decor, worse music taste, and on one occasion, a makeout session between Beca and head cheerleader Stacie Conrad that had been truly eye-opening.

It could also be Beca’s reputation as a slacker and a class clown. She was always giving dumb jokes and responses when the teacher called on her, and clearly probably barely had a C average at best, considering that no matter how often she kept her curtains open, Aubrey never saw her doing any homework or studying.

The reality -- the one that Aubrey could admit to herself and nobody else -- was that she wished she had some of the freedom to relax, to be herself, to not be the embodiment of the perfect daughter that Beca did.

She wished her father would let her have anyone she was romantically involved with upstairs, that she might be able to get anything less than an A without receiving an earful of criticism, that she had the confidence to change with the window wide open and not care who saw.

As it was, Aubrey didn’t have that freedom, and her dislike of Beca Mitchell spawned from the very simple fact that Beca did.

//

When it happened, Aubrey would’ve given a lot of things to blame her troubles on Beca Mitchell. She was in the wrong place at the wrong time and had never exactly had the reputation of rule-follower. It would’ve been easy.

The truth, though, was that it started before Beca gave her that first tilted smirk, the one that made Aubrey’s blood boil with fury and attraction and the imminent rush of danger. It started before she convinced Aubrey to ditch with her. It started before Aubrey even took her History exam.

It started, in fact, with some careless line said to her by her father when he saw Aubrey researching for college at the kitchen island after dinner. It was application time, and though she’d been relentlessly searching and applying, she hadn’t yet found her white whale, the perfect place for her.

When he walked by, looking over Aubrey's shoulder at the Barden website, he’d grunted disapprovingly. “You’re too good for that, school, Aubrey. If you set your sights so low, all you’ll ever see will be your own reflection in every window you pass.”

And then he had moved on, shutting himself in his office, and Aubrey had sat in numb silence, staring at her screen.

She had liked Barden, but it had been wishful thinking that she might go to such a place. Not when there was West Point, not when there was Yale or Emory.

Why, she fumed, should it matter what she wanted at all? Why should she have a say in her own life when it had all been so perfectly planned since birth, when her path to success had been written in the stars?

She’d shut her laptop with a click that did nothing to reflect her frustration, and quietly went to her room with the intention of finishing her homework.

That was her intention, however she’d left the window open before dinner to let some air into her stuffy room, and when she closed the door behind her, a pulsing beat drifted through on the wind.

She went to the window and peered across at the square of light from Beca’s open window. She could see Beca sitting at her desk, thick alternative techno music that Aubrey hated blasting from the speakers connected to her Mac. As Aubrey looked across the yard, Beca paused the music, fiddled with her keyboard, then restarted the song.

Though she didn’t particularly enjoy the music, Aubrey stood there for a long time, watching and listening as Beca repeated the process.

Finally, she tore herself away and, noting the time, turned in for bed.

//

“Okay, class! As you know, the Civil War test is today, so please put your phones away and take out a number two pencil for the Scantron portion.”

Aubrey froze as everyone started following the directions of their History teacher. There was no _way_ their test was today. Aubrey would’ve known, wouldn’t she?

She whipped out her planner, frantically flipping to that week’s page. Her heart dropped when there, in her handwriting, the words jumped out in big letters: CIVIL WAR EXAM.

Her heart dropped into her stomach. How could she have let this happen? She hadn’t studied at _all_.

“Planner away please, Aubrey.”

A Scantron and exam packet landed face down on her desk and she flinched.

She slipped her planner back into her backpack and clenched her fingers tight around her pencil. She could do this. There was no need to panic. She knew this stuff better than most of her classmates even without studying. It would all be just fine.

Still, a horrible nausea was building in her stomach that she couldn’t ignore.

“Begin!”

Aubrey flipped over her exam, breath coming out in ragged exhales. She could do this. She could _do this_.

God.

She couldn’t fucking do this.

//

The day they were set to get their exams back, Aubrey seemed to be made of nervous sweat and headaches.

It was _one_ grade, one exam. She really shouldn’t be so worked up, but she couldn’t help it. She could already feel her father’s disapproval sinking into her skin, burning its way down her spine.

She couldn’t face it.

So she hovered outside the classroom, even though the bell had rung three minutes ago.

“Hey neighbor,” came the lazy drawl from behind her. Aubrey spun around to see Beca Mitchell sauntering down the hall without a care in the world. “You ditching?”

“Of course not,” Aubrey snapped.

Beca rolled her eyes. “Oh of course not. Ms. Perfect would never dream of it.”

Aubrey felt a jolt of disdain at the word, both because it was intended as an insult and simply because it just wasn’t true. “I’m not perfect.”

“Sure.”

“I’m not.”

Beca held her hands up in a placating sort of way. As she passed Aubrey, she turned and walked backwards down the hall, still looking at Aubrey. “Whatever, beauty queen. It makes no difference to me.”

“Where are you _going_?”

Beca shrugged. “Anywhere but here. Why, you wanna come?”

“No.”

“That’s the biggest lie you’ve ever told, Posen, but don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”

Aubrey scoffed. “You don’t even know me.”

“Come hang out then.” She was almost at a distance that would warrant them yelling down the hall and considering Aubrey had no interest in attracting the attention of a teacher, she took a few steps toward Beca.

“What, with you?”

“Uh huh. Unless you’re scared.” Beca shot her a tilted smirk, still walking backwards. It slid under Aubrey’s skin, warm and slicing. She hated it.

She loved it.

She couldn’t resist it.

“Fine. Lead the way.”

//

“The tennis courts? Really? That’s your idea of ditching class?”

Beca laughed, plopping her butt on the ground and leaning her back against the chain link fence. “My dad’s got the car for today and I have an exam next period I gotta take anyway. But there was no way in hell I was going to Lit today. There’s a sub and all we we’re doing was reading Grapes of Fucking Wrath.”

Aubrey frowned. “I like that book.”

Beca had no comment about that. “Nobody will find us here, anyway. Unless they’re doing tennis in gym, nobody comes this way until after school. So chill. Take a seat.”

Reluctantly, Aubrey eased down next to Beca. She crossed her legs under her, looking up at the sky. It was cloudy, but the air was warm and it smelled like Autumn.

“Here,” Beca said, handing Aubrey an earbud she’d pulled from the pocket of her skinny jeans. “We can share.”

The sentiment was nice, but Aubrey had heard Beca’s music taste through their open windows. She stared at the earbud skeptically. Beca rolled her eyes and pressed it into Aubrey’s palm. Begrudgingly, she wiped it on her sleeve before sticking it in her ear. She’d never heard the song playing before, but she didn’t hate it. She didn’t really like it either.

“So this is what you do when you skip class? Nothing?”

“Yup.” Beca had leaned her head back against the fence and closed her eyes. “My favorite thing to do.”

Aubrey had never particularly enjoyed doing nothing. Left to her own thoughts, she tended to become anxious about all the things she wasn’t doing or could be doing better. “I think I’d really rather be in class.”

Beca just grunted, her eyes still closed. “Shh. I’m doing nothing here.”

“Thought you wanted to hang out, get to know each other.”

Beca shrugged. “Talk’s boring. What are we gonna say that we don’t already know? Some shit about the weather? You already know me and I know you.”

Aubrey turned to look at Beca better. “I don’t think that’s true at all.”

“Sure it is.”

Aubrey scoffed. “How?”

Beca finally opened her eyes and turned to face Aubrey. “Okay, well I know that you never go to bed after ten. Your favorite music is either 80s bops or new-age pop, but you only listen to those when a certain BMW belonging to Adam Posen is not in your driveway, otherwise you listen to classical. You have a bookshelf that at one time was sorted by color, but now is probably sorted by author, although I can’t read the titles from my room.” Beca paused thinking. “Oh, and you have a huge crush on Sophia Bush because I’ve seen you rewatching _One Tree Hill_ and _Chicago Fire_ during the summer on like, three separate occasions even though there’s no way you like the plot of either of those shows.”

Aubrey stared, dismayed. She’d never caught Beca looking over at her room in all the years they’d been neighbors. “That’s extremely unsettling, Beca.”

“Well it’s not like you don’t know similar things about me.”

Aubrey thought about that for a moment. She did know that Beca never got up before noon on Saturdays, that although her dad and Sheila always went to church, Beca never did. That Beca’s favorite music artist was probably Beck, if the two posters on her bedroom wall gave any indication. Her favorite ice cream flavor was Cherry Garcia, because Aubrey could see the red of the label when Beca’s desklamp hit it just right.

“I guess,” she admitted. “But I don’t really think that means we know each other.”

“Maybe not.” Beca shrugged. “But I know your dad’s a dick, and I know that you know that my dad left my mom and I’m stuck here in this shit town, so maybe we understand each other. That’s almost the same as knowing each other.”

“My dad’s not a dick.” Aubrey defended, but she knew she wasn’t fooling Beca. She wasn’t even fooling herself at that point. She sighed when Beca didn’t bother to respond. “Fine, so tell me. Why are you always ditching and making a fool of yourself if you’re so smart, then?”

Beca chuckled. “Because none of this matters, dude. It’s just high school.”

“The things we do matter. Even if it _is_ just high school. What you do now affects college and your future and then your career and family and everything else.”

“I’m not going to college. Once I graduate, then _whoosh_.” Beca let her hand float through the air. “I’m hopping on my very first plane and leaving this Godforsaken place.”

Aubrey eyed her reproachfully. “Where will you go?”

“Anywhere,” Beca spit out. “Anywhere but here.”

Aubrey scoffed. “And what will you do? You’ll have no money, no life skills.”

Beca shrugs. “I dunno. I’ll figure it out as I go. Shit will work out.”

This is why she disliked Beca Mitchell. How could anyone live by that philosophy? How could anyone _afford_ to live by that philosophy? She could _never_ live by that philosophy.

But God, Aubrey wanted to live by that philosophy.

She sighed, slumping back into the fence. Beca nudged their shoulders together amicably.

“Look, I know I could take a few things more seriously, take a leaf out of your book. But shit’s just not that serious, dude. You need to like, do some things for yourself, let go a little bit. You’re only as young as the minute is, you know? Don’t take that for granted because you might regret trying so hard to live _right_ that you forget to live for you.”

Aubrey snorted. “Didn’t know that you really cared how I choose to live my life.”

“Well.” Beca shifted and her body pressed against Aubrey’s. “It’s the new fad to pretend you don’t care, but I’ve never really been a trend follower.”

Aubrey laughed a little at that. “I’ve noticed.”

“Good, I was hoping you would.”

Aubrey blinked, taking a second to just look at Beca. She was giving Aubrey that tilted smirk, her eyes playful. She was pretty, Aubrey thought. In an offhand, infuriating kind of way.

“Maybe you’re not as annoying as I thought.”

“Oh,” Beca laughed. “I’m much more annoying than that.”

//

“A C?” Her father glared, his voice like a whip.

“I’m sorry, Dad, I forgot about the test. My average is still a low to mid-A, though, it really shouldn’t affect it that -- ”

“Maybe not _now_ , but it’s a slippery slope, Aubrey. You’re going to have to work twice as hard now to keep that up, and it’s inexcusable that someone as smart and capable as you would receive this grade.”

Aubrey felt a horrible nausea rise in her again. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize to _me_. Sorry won’t get you anywhere.”

Aubrey had to bite her lip to refrain from apologizing again.

Her father sighed. “Just… go study or do your homework. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Aubrey frowned, her chest swirling with nausea and anxiety. She could feel the beginning of tears pinpricking behind her eyes, and before her father could see, before he could tell her not to cry, that she had to suffer the consequences of her own choices, she left his office, as quick as poise would allow.

When she got to her room, her tears were flowing freely, her chest shaking with silent sobs.

One test. It was one test. How could the result of one test make her feel so awful?

Because she thought bitterly, it wasn’t about the test. It was about the constant pressure, the nonexistent margin of error she was allowed.

Frustrated, she silently flung herself onto her bed. She could feel her heart unraveling at the seams, falling apart stitch by stitch. She sniffled and rolled over, looking out her window toward the square of light that was Beca’s room.

She almost jumped out of her skin to see Beca sitting in the frame, one leg hanging into the night, the other hidden in her room. Beca waved, shooting Aubrey a sympathetic smile. Aubrey hated it, hated that Beca was seeing her like this. She had the urge to fling the curtains shut but Beca’s smile held her in place, an anchor in her tumultuous breakdown. God she hated it.

She loved it.

She didn’t want it to disappear.

She laid there, breathing into her pillow, thinking about closing the window, but never moving. Beca didn’t move either, a ghost in the window, a silhouette against the light.

Aubrey wasn’t sure how long they sat there looking at each other, but eventually she stopped crying and her eyes grew heavy. Beca’s shadow was the last comforting thing she saw before she fell asleep.

//

She dreamed she was on a plane.

The plane was empty, but Aubrey didn’t find this odd. Below her, the city lights sprawled against the backdrop of the night like varicose veins.

Then the plane started to shake, luggage from invisible passengers falling from the overhead compartment.

“We’re experiencing some unexpected turbulence,” the pilot said over the intercom. “We’re going to die.”

Aubrey could feel nausea rising in her as the oxygen masks fell from their ceiling treasure chests. Her father’s voice came over the intercom.

“Fly the plane, Aubrey. You’re going to crash and then where will you be?”

Aubrey stood up frantically, but the plane aisle was endless, the cockpit nonexistent. “I can’t!” She screamed. “I’ve never flown a plane before!”

“Then you’ll face the consequences of your actions.” The intercom clicked off.

Aubrey looked around, screaming in shock when Beca suddenly appeared in the seat next to hers, a bulky set of headphones around her neck.

“Beca?” Aubrey hissed. “What are you doing here? The plane’s going down.”

Beca shrugged, giving Aubrey that tilted smirk. “Let it crash, then.”

In a panic, Aubrey looked out the window, the ground coming at them quickly. Too quickly.

Just as the plane was about to hit the ground, Aubrey woke up.

//

She lay in bed for a few moments, her chest heaving and pulse racing.

It was just a dream, she told herself. Just a dream.

Darkness still pressed around her and looking at her phone, she saw it was still only about 2am. She peered out the window next to her bed, but Beca’s room light had turned off and she was nowhere in sight.

Aubrey silently groaned, feeling wide awake. Her room was hot and stuffy, pressing in on her like a straightjacket. The longer she sat there, the anxiety of her dream still lingering in her chest, the more panicked Aubrey became.

She had the strongest desire to open her window and climb down into the night.

She couldn’t do that of course. She’d never snuck out and couldn’t even comprehend the consequences of such a thing if she were caught.

Still, the urge was building momentum, gaining speed and power the longer she sat there. Finally, with shaky hands, she pushed herself on her knees and opened the window.

Cool air drifted in immediately and she shivered, but it felt good on her face, fresh and free.

Stop, she told herself. You can’t do this. You absolutely _cannot_ do this.

Her body wasn’t listening. Before she knew it, she’d popped the screen out and pulled it into her room. Then she stuck her head out the window and looked down.

It wasn’t that far, really. There was the roof overhang for their side door just a little below her, and she could swing down from that to the ground if she was really careful.

She couldn’t though. She just couldn’t.

She swung her leg through the open window, letting it hang down. Her other knee was still on her bed, shakily holding her up as it pressed into the mattress. Taking a deep breath, she lifted off the bed and stuffed her other leg and butt through the window, her fingers curling around the frame. The hard plastic dug into her skin painfully. Her arms trembled as she looked down. Then she closed her eyes and let herself fall the few feet to the overhang below. She landed in a crouch, more gracefully than she had expected.

Suddenly, she felt very exposed. She was in her tiny sleep shorts and a tank top, standing alone on a very small square of roof.

God she was stupid. This was stupid. Why had she done that? She was being outrageous. Shaking her head, she clicked her tongue at herself.

Okay Aubrey, you’re being ridiculous. Where would you even go once you make it to the ground? What was your plan here?

She obviously hadn’t been thinking clearly, but now what was she going to do? She couldn’t climb back up the smooth side of the house. The only solution was to make it to the ground and then sneak back in.

She sighed, peering over the edge of the roof to the ground. It wasn’t that far but it seemed a lot farther than she had anticipated.

“There’s a good spot to your left,” a voice came from nowhere and Aubrey jumped so far she feared she’d fall off the roof. She turned in the direction it came from, surprised to see Beca peering over the fence between their houses.

“What are you doing?” Hissed Aubrey. “It’s 2am.”

Beca chuckled quietly. “Saw you climbing out the window, thought I’d join the adventure.”

“There’s no adventure,” Aubrey muttered. “I’m just getting down and going back inside.”

“Oh.” Beca frowned. “So you’re not sneaking out?”

Aubrey hesitated. “Well. I maybe had thought about it in some fit of delusion, but now I’ve come to my senses.”

“Uh huh.” And there Beca was, giving her that tilted smirk, the one Aubrey wanted to blame for all her troubles. “So you mean you’re too scared?”

“I’m _not_ scared, I’m smart.”

“Sure, sweetheart whatever you wanna tell yourself. Night then.” Beca dropped out of sight behind the fence.

Aubrey frowned, infuriated. “Where are you going?”

“On an adventure!” Beca called back, still hidden in her yard. “Join now or forever miss out.”

Aubrey huffed. “Okay, wait. Just wait.”

Beca’s head popped back up over the fence. “Second thoughts?”

“Help me down from here.”

Beca let out a low laugh, pointing to Aubrey’s left. “Land on the trash can, duh.”

Aubrey peered down to where they kept their bigger trash bins. The plastic didn’t look steady at all. “That’s seriously so stupid.”

“Do you have a better plan?”

Aubrey had to admit she didn’t even _have_ a plan. Grumbling, she shuffled the few steps toward the edge of the roof. It wasn’t high, but God… it was high.

Her arms trembled as she eased down on her butt and gripped the rain gutter between her fingers. She rolled over on her stomach and pushed herself down, dangling into the night. For one moment, she felt the free rush of empty air below her, like she was pushing against gravity and _winning_. Then her heart flew into her throat as gravity took the lead and her grip on the gutter tore it from its nails and into the air.

She let out a silent scream as she tumbled to the ground, her feet landing under her as she crashed into the trash bin with a loud bang.

“Oh, shit,” came Beca’s voice.

Aubrey groaned, a slicing pain in her ankle. She was surrounded by trash, the broken gutter still in her fingers, and a hot pain pulsing through her.

The lights in her house flickered on, but Aubrey didn’t have much mindspace to care. Her backyard gate creaked open and Beca ran through.

“Aubrey, shit, dude.” She hovered over Aubrey, her hands grabbing her arm and squeezing gently. “You okay?”

“Fine,” Aubrey muttered mindlessly, but she so wasn’t fine. She could hear her back door sliding open and the firm footsteps of her father approaching. Also she was covered in trash and her foot was on fire.

“Aubrey?” His voice rasped, accusatory, but worried. He had wrapped his robe over his pajamas. “What on earth is going on?”

Aubrey couldn’t do anything but grunt. Beca looked up at her dad. “Mr. Posen, she uh, I think she broke her foot or something. She fell.”

“Fell?”

Aubrey watched as he looked up at the roof, her open window. She could practically see the pieces sliding into place and the look of realization dawning on his face.

“Were you sneaking out?”

“Mr. Posen -- ”

“Quiet, Beca.” His cutting voice made Beca snap her mouth shut, something Aubrey had seen many teachers try and fail to do.

Aubrey felt tears in her eyes, but she was scared to cry. “I’m sorry, Dad.”

The pain in her foot was almost as strong as the one in her chest when he looked at her so disapprovingly. Almost. “What has gotten into you?” He turned his head in Beca’s direction. “Was this your influence?”

“I… Well. I mean.”

“No,” Aubrey was quick to interrupt. God, she could blame all her troubles on Beca Mitchell and that infuriating smirk. Beca Mitchell, who she’d never particularly liked. Who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Who had a reputation for breaking the rules. But she couldn’t do it. Beca’s fingers were still holding her arm in a comfortingly firm grip and all she could think of was Beca’s silhouette in the window earlier, her supportive smile when Aubrey hadn’t asked for anything from her at all in the seventeen years they’d lived next to each other.

“It wasn’t Beca, she just saw me fall and came over here,” she said. “I’m sorry, Dad. I don’t know what I was thinking, but it’s my fault. Beca had nothing to do with it.”

Her dad stared at her for a long minute, but Aubrey couldn’t meet his gaze. Her foot was throbbing and Beca’s other hand had started softly rubbing her shoulder.

Finally he sighed. “Let’s get you to Urgent Care. We’ll talk about this later.”

Then his large figure was stepping closer, his arms pushing under her and lifting her into the air. Her foot gave a sharp jab of pain as it hung loosely into open space. Beca hovered next to her, her concerned eyes peering into Aubrey’s, asking a question Aubrey couldn’t figure out.

“I’m fine,” she told Beca again, pressing her cheek into her dad’s chest. He walked her through the gate and opened the garage, Beca following all the while.

“Get that door, Beca,” he ordered and Beca didn’t question it. She pulled open the door of the BMW and gently, her dad laid her down in the backseat. “Be right back,” he said and disappeared into the house.

Aubrey pressed her fingers over her eyes, trying to stop the tears and humiliation and shame of the whole thing.

“Hey,” Beca said. Aubrey opened her eyes as Beca was sticking her head in the car so Aubrey could see her. “That was kind of badass.”

“Shut up.” Aubrey crossed her arms over her chest, but there wasn’t anything very dignifying about the entire situation.

“I’m serious,” Beca laughed. “Who would’ve guessed Aubrey Posen would have the guts to sneak out and cause property damage to her own house, huh?”

Aubrey huffed. “The property damage wasn’t intentional.”

“It’s still badass.”

“I’m going to be in so much trouble.”

“Totally worth it, though, right?” Beca grinned excitedly. “Doesn’t it feel good?”

Aubrey would be hard pressed to say it felt _good_. She was clearly about to be grounded for the rest of her adolescence and judging by the pain in her foot, she was also about to be on crutches for a good while. Still, maybe there was something to what Beca was saying. Not a _good_ feeling, but a _free_ one. She’d made that decision, had just done what felt right even though she knew maybe she shouldn’t be doing it.

She would face the consequences of her actions, and they were sure to be painful both physically and emotionally, but for a second there, she had felt like the master of her own fate, like she could control gravity. It had certainly been exhilarating.

Her dad came back then, appearing in the garage fully dressed and wide awake. He grunted when he saw Beca still standing there. “Go home, Beca. It’s late.”

Beca gave Aubrey one last lingering look, then pulled her head out of the car. The door shut behind her and Aubrey’s dad slid into the driver’s seat.

“I really don’t know what’s gotten into you, Aubrey,” he murmured quietly.

“Me neither,” she whispered, too low for him to hear.

As the car backed out of the garage and driveway, Aubrey craned her neck to look out the window. Beca was still standing on the sidewalk between their houses. When the car drove by her, she gave it a tilted smirk and a wave, and Aubrey thought maybe, just maybe, she had some idea of what had gotten into her after all.

//

She’d broken her left foot in two places, so they’d put it in a cast and gave her crutches that she would surely struggle to use over the course of the next few weeks at school.

More humiliating than that was that she was grounded for a month and couldn’t see any of her friends, not even the responsible ones like Emily and Jessica. Between her limited mobility and her punishment, she was practically on house arrest, which was why it was so surprising when Beca showed up in her room a few days later.

“Hey,” she said, knocking on Aubrey’s door frame. Aubrey also was suffering an open-door policy so that she wasn’t tempted by distractions.

“Hey.” Aubrey smiled despite herself. Probably because Beca was the first person she’d seen outside of school besides her dad in the past week. “What are you doing here?”

Beca shrugged, slouching further into Aubrey’s room. Without permission, she sat down next to Aubrey on the bed. It was rude, but Aubrey didn’t mind. “Thought I’d stop by and make sure you didn’t have chains across the door.”

“Ha ha.”

Beca smirked. “How are you doing?”

“I’ve been better, honestly.”

“I bet.” Beca tapped her cast. “So you fucked up your foot.”

“Did the cast give it away?”

Beca chuckled. “I’m just observant like that.” She dragged her fingers along the cast. “So you’re gonna let me sign it, right?”

Aubrey shrugged. “As long as you don’t write anything crude.”

“Nah.” Beca stood up and made her way to Aubrey’s desk. She plucked a Sharpie from the pen basket then plopped back on the bed. Uncapping the marker, she leaned forward to press it to the purple cast. “Let’s see.”  Aubrey tried to see what she was writing, but Beca’s wrist was in the way. Finally, Beca pulled back and capped the pen. “There.”

Aubrey snorted.

**UR BADASS - BECA MITCHELL**

“Wow, so eloquent.”

Beca laughed and tossed the Sharpie at Aubrey’s head. “Don’t hate. So what’s the plan for the weekend? Another _One Tree Hill_ rewatch?”

Aubrey rolled her eyes. “No, I’m grounded.” She frowned. “Speaking of, how did you get in here?”

Beca gave her that smirk, so infuriating, so dangerous. So gorgeous. “Your dad let me up, believe it or not.”

“Uh, yeah,” Aubrey said skeptically. “Let’s go with _or not_.”

“For real. He said you might need a friend.”

She gave Beca a disbelieving look. “Really?”

“Truth.” Then Beca quirked an eyebrow. “Little did he know, we’re not friends.”

It stung a little, but Aubrey couldn’t disagree. Maybe their recent interactions had bordered on something more than their relationship in the past, but it was hard to say that made them friends. “So why even come?”

Beca smiled innocently. “Well because you want to be more than friends, obviously.”

Heat immediately shot into Aubrey’s cheeks, even though that was _of course_ ridiculous. “Excuse me?”

“Come on, I’ve seen you checking me out when I’m changing.”

“Beca. Are you serious? You left your curtains open.”

“Well, yeah, because I know you like it.”

Aubrey stared, dumbfounded. She would never intentionally look at Beca changing, and sure Beca wasn’t horrible to look at, and maybe she was funny and clever, but Aubrey would _never_ \-- she would never… she….

Oh, God, she so would.

“Stop,” she said, only because she didn’t know what else to say. “You’re infuriating.”

“Only because I’m right.”

It suddenly occurred to her that Beca was close, really close, that they were sitting in Aubrey’s bed, that Aubrey had inconsequentially seen Beca naked on several occasions, that watching Beca and Stacie Conrad makeout once upon a time had been a serious sexual awakening for her.

But Aubrey couldn’t be with someone like Beca. Someone who broke the rules and didn’t care about their reputation and had no plans for their future. Someone who thought that everything would work itself out.

And yet…

Beca was giving her that smirk and Aubrey could blame everything on that one expression, how it was dangerous and ridiculous and smug, how it represented everything about Beca that Aubrey wasn’t, that Aubrey envied.

And maybe it was exactly that representation of everything Aubrey wasn’t, maybe it was what that smirk stood for, that was attractive to Aubrey in the end.

Or maybe she was just tired of doing every little thing she was supposed to.

“Fine, so what if I do?”

“Nothing,” Beca shrugged. “Just wanted to hear you admit it before I did anything to freak you out.”

And then Beca was leaning toward her, the purple cast pressing between them. When they kissed, Aubrey swore she could taste that smirk on Beca’s lips.

Beca chuckled, pulling back. “Look at this. Perfect Aubrey Posen kissing a slacker like me. And with the door open, when you’re grounded and your dad’s downstairs. You’re badass, Aubrey.”

Aubrey rolled her eyes. “Oh please.”

“Badass.”

“Just shut up and kiss me, Beca, I swear to God.”

Beca laughed, and then they were kissing again, Aubrey’s hands cupping behind Beca’s neck to pull her closer.

Aubrey had always disliked everything about Beca Mitchell. Her smirk, her attitude, her music taste. But maybe she’d disliked them because of the very simple fact that she liked them very much, and in Aubrey’s mind, that was unacceptable. She’d disliked Beca Mitchell, been infuriated by Beca Mitchell, had not been able to stand Beca Mitchell in any capacity.

It was just now dawning on Aubrey how very much she wanted Beca Mitchell, and in any other moment, had it occurred at any other time prior to now, that would have scared her.

But kissing Beca was a lot like hanging from the roof, wrestling with gravity and winning, her heart soaring freely, unweighted by expectations.

When Aubrey kissed Beca, she suddenly understood what Beca meant when she said things would work themselves out. She might experience one second of freedom then crash to the ground, but she’d be okay. Things would work themselves out.

Kissing Beca, Aubrey felt free to be herself, and she found that all those reasons she’d had to dislike Beca? They disappeared, because they were exactly the reasons why Aubrey ultimately actually _liked_ Beca.

Sure, she might get in trouble, kissing someone upstairs in her room, when she’s supposed to be grounded, when she’s supposed to be studying.

But maybe Beca had been right that night in the garage after Aubrey had fallen from the roof.

She might get in trouble, but wasn’t it worth it?

Yes, Aubrey thought, as Beca slid her tongue between Aubrey’s lips. It was definitely worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> hmu emilyjunk.tumblr.com


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